


Late Nights on Deck

by cheshcat



Category: XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: But Not Much, Comfort, Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Keeping It Lightish, Nightmares, One Shot, Turns Out Being Used As A Human Combat Simulator Can Fuck You Up, implied PTSD, mutual feelings, who'da thunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshcat/pseuds/cheshcat
Summary: The Commander is struggling to adjust after her rescue from the ADVENT facility. Plagued by nightmares both awake and asleep, she's barely keeping it together until her second-in-command finds the solution to her sleepless nights.
Relationships: John "Central" Bradford/Commander (XCOM)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	Late Nights on Deck

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from the archives, friends. 2017 hits different.
> 
> At first I was horrified by how different Central was between XCOM: Enemy Unknown and XCOM 2. How did they manage to change him from British to American with just a visual redesign?! I guess it grew on me though, if this fic is anything to go by...

_'Just like twenty years ago.'_

* * *

A sharp buzz interrupted the Commander's reverie. Realising it was the intercom for her new quarters, she shook herself, remembering where she was.

'Come in.'

The door opened with a soft hiss and Central stepped into the room. It took her a moment to recognise him.

'Is everything okay, Commander?' he asked, her brief confusion obviously apparent on her face.

'Yes, yes,' she responded, unable to look him in the eye. 'I'm just not used to that scar of yours yet.'

'I think it makes me look rugged and manly,' he said with a smirk, crossing the room to join her at the window. She couldn't help but laugh, casting him a sidelong glance.

'I preferred the jumper myself.'

They shared a brief smile before the Commander turned her gaze back to the view. When Central spoke again, his voice had grown serious.

'A lot of things have changed.'

'You don't need to tell me,' she said quietly.

They'd put down for the night on a vast plateau of tundra in northern Russia, the setting sun casting broad streaks of pink and orange as far as the eye could see. It was incongruously peaceful.

She could feel Central watching her.

'What is it?'

He hesitated momentarily before looking away and taking his turn to stare out of the window. 'You haven't aged a day, Commander, and yet--' he looked back at her, 'I've never seen you more troubled.'

Afraid that she might be unable to control her expression, the Commander tried to turn away. Central caught her arm.

'I know you're not sleeping,' he continued, 'I've seen you pacing the decks at night.'

She sighed, chewing on her bottom lip, all mannerism of command gone.

'I see them,' she finally said, the shadows of horror passing across her face. 'The combat simulations. All the scenarios they were running through my head. I was awake, John. I was awake for all of it.'

She felt him squeeze her arm.

'Every time I close my eyes. Whether I'm awake or asleep, all I see is war. It's the only thing that hasn't changed.'

She choked up, surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears. She was even more surprised when Central folded her into a tight hug.

'We will beat them,' he murmured into her ear, his own voice hoarse with emotion. 'And I will personally make every single one of them pay for what they've done to you.'

* * *

'Can't sleep?'

The Commander jumped, turning briefly to watch Central approach.

'No,' she said softly.

He leant on the railings next to her. From here they overlooked the bridge, but the way the light spilt upwards cast them in a deep shadow, seeing but unseen. The Commander often lingered here at night, a ghost haunting her own ship.

'Usual?' he asked.

She nodded, weary and pale. Her hair, usually tied back, was hanging loose around her tired face. Central was surprised to see that it almost reached the small of her back; an unusual indulgence for the Commander, but not one he was sorry for.

'Her,' she pointed to a recruit down below, 'what's her name?'

He shuffled closer to see who she was pointing at.

'That's Sanchez,' he told her. 'She's new. Great technical skills, but no tactical experience. Lots of potential.'

The Commander hummed agreement, watching the woman below bustle between workstations.

They stood together in silence for a moment, so close that Central could feel the Commander's body heat radiating against his arm. A familiar blend of desire and protectiveness uncoiled itself in his stomach. He had long since come to terms with his feelings for his commanding officer; they had only intensified since her return. Watching her struggle to hide the damage that had been done to her made his heart ache.

'You planning to replace me?' he asked, nudging her with an elbow.

It took her a moment to respond. She stood back from the railing, running a hand through her hair with a haggard expression.

'I'm planning to replace _me_ ,' she said. 'If I can't get my shit together and get a good night's sleep, then it's only a matter of time before I make a serious mistake.'

She was silent for a moment, allowing the implications to spool out in the quiet.

'We need to have options.'

'That won't be necessary, Commander.'

'Won't it?' she murmured, half to herself, her eyes still following Sanchez' movements below. 

'No.'

Central's stern tone seemed to break through the Commander's internal fog.

'Well, you let me know if you have any brilliant ideas,' she hissed, although the severity of her response was somewhat undermined by a yawn she couldn't suppress, 'because I'm all out.'

She wandered past him, missing his expression of concern as she returned to her quarters. She was right, of course - and he had no idea what to do about it.

* * *

Central was woken by the harsh buzz of his door's intercom. Groggy and irritated, he swung out of bed. What was the point in having his own quarters, small though they were, if he wasn't to be left alone in them? He was already preparing his grumpy tirade as the door hissed open.

On the other side, however, was not an inconsiderate recruit, but his Commander. She was pale and shaking, looking decidedly un-Commanderly in sweats and an oversized t-shirt.

'I'm sorry, John. I just, I--'

'Couldn't sleep,' he finished for her, stepping back from the doorway to invite her in. 'Come on in.'

'You look like you've seen a ghost,' he observed, pulling a bottle of genuine vintage whiskey from its hiding place behind the bed.

'I've seen thousands,' she replied, painfully quiet, accepting the bottle that was passed to her. Reading the label, she raised her eyebrows. 'Are you sure?'

'I am,' Central told her, sitting himself down on the small sofa and patting the spot next to him. She sat, their knees touching, and took a swig from the bottle. Her tired expression was replaced with a grimace as the whiskey burnt down her throat.

'Damn,' she muttered. 'You're a terrible influence, Central. I've been dry for twenty years.'

The Commander gave him a wry smile, offering him the bottle. A grim shadow hovered over his face as he took a drink for himself. 'That makes one of us.'

She looked hard at him for a moment. There were things they needed to talk about, she knew that. They were both damaged. Overwhelmed as she was with her own struggle, she simply hadn't had the energy to face what twenty years of war and loneliness must have done to John. They'd thought she was dead, after all.

A hot pit of guilt churned in her stomach. Despite the nightmares, the cold sweats, and the endless echoing screams, there were still days when she felt like she'd gotten off lightly. She leant back into the sofa, rubbing her face with her hands.

'I think I'm losing my mind,' the Commander announced.

'Quite possibly,' Central agreed, passing her the bottle again.

She took another drink, feeling the liquor warm her insides and burn away the remnants of the dream that had woken her. Another combat scenario, playing over and over. Every time - no matter what she did - she had to watch the same poor boy, barely more than eighteen, get cut in half by flying shrapnel. His shocked face was as familiar to her as her own.

Shaking her head, the Commander looked sidelong at Central as he took another long swig from the bottle. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the catalogue of scars on his chest spoke volumes about what he'd been through in her absence. Despite it all, she found herself admiring how well he'd aged.

He caught her looking, raising an eyebrow at her with a knowing smirk. She laughed, raising her hands in an admission of guilt.

'Are you even allowed to be topless? I'm sure there used to be rules about that.'

'I was asleep!' he retorted, indignant, although the warm smile on his face gave his real feelings away.

'Sleep is for the weak.'

'And the sane,' he replied, putting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of them.

They shared a look as tired silence fell again. Central studied the Commander's face, exhaustion etched into her skin. The dark circles under her eyes purpled like bruises. Eventually, she sighed.

'I should go,' she mumbled, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. 'At least try to sleep again.'

She looked thoroughly unenthused by the prospect. Watching emotion flicker across her face, Central suspected she might even be afraid. He couldn't bear the thought of her lying awake, alone; desperate to sleep for the sake of everyone depending on her, but terrified of the horrors her nightmares might bring.

He stood up with a groan, offering the Commander a gentlemanly hand. She took it, standing with the exaggerated slowness of the deeply tired. Instead of letting go when she turned towards the door, Central held on, gently tugging her in the opposite direction.

She gave him a questioning look but didn't pull away.

'Come on,' he said softly, inclining his head toward the bed.

The Commander hesitated, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes flickered between him and the single cot, uncertainty warring with desperation and exhaustion. Central gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement.

'God, it's worth a shot,' she eventually said.

'What have you got to lose?' he asked, leading her towards the bed.

'Certainly not sleep.'

There was a moment of uneasy hesitation as they stood together at the edge of the bunk. Central realised he was still holding the Commander's hand. Then she yawned widely, unable to cover her mouth in time and apologising instinctively. The tension dissolved as she graced him with a tired, apologetic smile.

Central climbed into the bed first, holding up the covers for his companion. Sliding in next to him, she felt a strong, warm arm settle around her waist. She wriggled backwards, pressing her back again Central's chest so that they could both fit on the narrow single bed. She fidgeted some more, getting comfortable and tangling their legs together in the process.

'My quarters next time,' she mumbled into the pillow, exhaustion and imminent slumber already making her words fuzzy. 'Bigger bed.'

'Next time, eh?' he teased, squeezing her waist a little.

The Commander murmured something unintelligible about insubordination. Central only smiled, daring to press a gentle kiss against her hair.

* * *

When she woke, it was from a deep, uninterrupted sleep. The light filtering in through Central's small window told her that it was probably early afternoon; she had slept for at least twelve hours and felt like she could happily do the same again. Rolling over, she luxuriated in the warm, gentle awakening. She had grown so used to waking in a cold sweat of fear, part of her had been sure she'd never wake like this again.

She was, however, alone.

The bed smelt strongly of Central, even without him there. She bit her lip. Thinking about the implications of where she was filled her with jittery apprehension: there was a reason fraternising was frowned upon in the military. Not that they'd--

She cut off that train of thought abruptly, rolling herself out of bed and wondering if she could make it back to her own quarters without being seen.

* * *

'Good of you to join us, Commander.'

She threw Central a dirty look. He just smirked lopsidedly back at her until her pretence of irritation fell apart.

'Commander.' She heard Tygan formally acknowledge her, hurrying to smother the grin that was threatening her Commanderly-ness. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Central still smiling at her. It made something in her chest go warm and fluttery.

'I've made some interesting discoveries...'

* * *

What followed that day was her strongest performance since she'd been extracted from the ADVENT facility. Her reactions, judgement calls, tactical predictions - they were all flawless. She could almost _feel_ her neurons firing faster. For the first time in two decades, she began to feel a little like her old self.

Cheers went around the bridge as the team on the ground were safely evacuated without a single casualty. Catching Central's eye across the room, she couldn't help but grin.

* * *

Back in her quarters, tiredness crept up on her sooner than she'd expected. Figures. One good night's sleep wasn't going to fix weeks of exhaustion.

She sighed, averting her mind's eye from the increasingly pressing question: would she be able to sleep tonight? Now that she wasn't on the brink of collapse, the thought of going to Central's quarters made her anxious. Between the exhaustion and the whiskey, she couldn't remember much; the burning of the liquor in her throat, how gently Central had touched her, how warm she'd been just before she fell asleep.

It was nothing new. Conflicting feelings about John 'Central' Bradford had been a mainstay of her emotional landscape for years. The Commander absolutely had feelings for her second-in-command - she even knew it was mutual - but they were military officers, or had been. It simply wouldn't have been allowed, and they were both too good at their jobs to let it get the best of them.

But that was then. Now they were... what? A paramilitary organisation? Rebels? Desperate fools? She'd never felt so at sea, so small a figure against so large a fight, and it would be so easy to melt into Central's arms and have it all go away, however briefly.

She heard the buzz of her intercom, knew who it would be, felt a small piece of her self-control get chipped away.

'Come in.'

She turned away from the window, tugging at the band in her hair. She was still shaking it loose as the door opened, long waves uncoiling from the restrictive bun they'd been in all day.

 _She has no idea how beautiful she is_ , Central marvelled, watching the Commander impatiently ruffle her hair. He tried to stifle the screaming imperative that rang through every nerve in his body: kiss her. Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.

'You did good today,' he said after the door had hissed shut behind him.

'It wasn't just me, you know,' she replied. 'It's never just me.'

'Maybe not,' he countered, taking a few steps further into the room, 'but I've seen this organisation with you and without you. You make _all_ the difference.'

She watched his face for a second or two, then dropped her eyes. How could she even begin to articulate how she felt?

'You really think we can win?' she asked instead.

'We have to try,' he said, painfully earnest.

God, it wasn't getting any easier. She couldn't rely on herself to get more than a few hours sleep at a time, let alone lead humanity's last hope. The Commander covered her eyes with one hand, but it did nothing to conceal her shaking voice.

'I don't know if I can do this, John. I can't even trust myself to--'

She cut herself off, frustrated as her throat threatened to close up with tears. Central was across the room in a heartbeat, gently taking both her hands in his. She still couldn't look at him.

'Commander,' he began, then his voice softened, 'Lucy.'

She looked up then, how could she not? She couldn't remember the last time someone had called her by her name, by anything other than Commander.

'I've always said that I'd do anything for the cause,' he went on, deadly serious. 'If that means sharing my bunk with someone who snores like a Muton, then so be it.'

She couldn't help but laugh.

'I don't snore!' she cried, indignant, a smile cracking over her face despite the tears that still sat in the corner of her eyes.

Central didn't respond, just cocked an eyebrow at her. She gave him a gentle thump on the chest, shaking her head, and his expression broke into a rare grin. Slowly, it faded to seriousness again.

'Lucy,' he repeated, wiping a single escaped tear from her cheek.

'I know we both ignored... _this_ for a long time.' His eyes flickered down to her mouth. 'We had to.'

'None of that matters anymore,' he went on. 'I want to be whatever you need. I would be _honoured_ to--'

She cut him off with a desperate kiss. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

'Don't talk to me about honour, John,' she said when they broke apart, pressing her forehead against his. 'Honour is for the dead. You need to promise me you won't get yourself killed. I couldn't bear it if--'

'I know, I know,' he breathed, pressing his face into her neck. He knew the pain she was referring to; was intimately acquainted with it, in fact. 'Twenty years was long enough, Lucy. I'm not going to lose you again.'

They held each other for what felt like a long time, years of unspoken pain and longing permeating the air around them.

Despite herself, the Commander eventually found herself yawning. Pulling back from their tight embrace, Central gave her a tender smile.

'Come on,' he chided gently, 'you've had more than enough excitement for one day.'

Taking her hand, he began to lead her toward the bed.

'In my experience,' she observed on the way there, 'beds are full of excitement.'

He laughed, pausing to pull her close again.

'Patience,' he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. 'I can't very well tire you out if you're already exhausted, can I?'

She scoffed.

' _Y_ _ou_ _?_ Tire _me_ out? We'll see.'

His only response was a low, rumbling hum, laden with promise.


End file.
